His hand went between her thighs.
44
The talk at Fisherman’s Wharf was small and inconsequential, neither focused on business nor anything of significance. In the end, Waverly wasn’t sure if Bristol’s appearance was planned or accidental. When she got back to the office, however, the top sheet of the scratch pad-the one she wrote Bristol’s home number on-was gone.
Had Bristol spotted it as he walked past?
Did he wonder what his home phone number was doing on Waverly’s desk?
Did he tail her and swing by, as if by chance, to get a feel for her?
Did he connect the dots between the number and the events of last night?
Bolt.
That’s what her gut said, bolt.
Something ugly was headed her way.
The phone rang with calls all afternoon. A good number of them were for Bristol who never tipped a hand when Waverly patched them through. Then an unexpected call came, for none other than Waverly herself, from Su-Moon.
“I’m outside the building on the street,” she said. “Find an excuse to come down here. I need to talk to you.”
Five minutes later Waverly slipped out, bypassed the elevator and bounded down the stairs two at a time to street level.
Su-Moon was clearly excited.
“Big news,” she said. “I wasn’t finding anything, not for a long time, but my mind kept going back to this Land Camera that was stashed in the top dresser drawer. At first I didn’t know why it kept nagging me, then I realized that it was because I hadn’t come across any photos-only the camera, no photos. That’s when I started to dig deeper.”
She pulled an envelope out of her purse.
“I found this taped underneath the bottom drawer of the dresser. Take a look.”
Waverly opened it.
Inside were dozens upon dozens of black-and-white Polaroid film photos.
All of them were of women.
Most of them were naked or close to it, posing in lewd positions.
“There are at least five different women in these photos,” Su-Moon said. “I’ll bet dollars to donuts that one of them is Kava Every. That’s what you need to find out.”
“How?”
“I don’t know, just do it.”
Waverly handed the envelope back.
Su-Moon wouldn’t take it.
“You keep it,” she said.
Waverly shook her head.
“You need to go put it back,” she said. “He’s going to find it missing.”
“Who cares?”
“We care.”
“No we don’t,” Su-Moon said. “Wait, give it to me a minute.” She took it, flipped through the photos until she got to one near the back and said, “These. These are the ones that interest me.”
Waverly studied them.
There were seven or eight photos. In each one the woman wore a dress. A fan was underneath her, blowing the dress up.
They were very erotic.
“What about them?” Waverly said.
“Look at their dresses.”
“I am.”
“And what do you see?”
“They’re blowing up.”
“Does that strike you as strange?”
“They all strike me as strange.”
“Let me put it this way,” Su-Moon said. “That’s what their dresses would look like if they were falling off a building.”
She handed the envelope back to Waverly.
“Go find out if one of these women is Kava Every.”
45
Alexa Blank was a blue-eyed princess with strawberry pigtails and a spring in her step. Looking into her eyes, River was glad the contract was rescinded. She’d be a hard one to kill. She pulled a pencil and pad out of her apron and said, “What’ll it be, cowboy?”
“Coffee.” A beat, then he added, “But not here.”
She wrinkled her forehead.
“Not here?”
“No, not here,” he said. “Down the street.”
“Down the street?”
He nodded.
“At a different restaurant. With you.”
She shifted into a sexier position, edging in ever so slightly.
“With me, huh?”
“Right. With you.”
“You’re hitting on me.”
“I am.”
She studied his eyes and found no lies. A smile worked its way onto her mouth.
“Be careful,” she said. “I might call your bluff.”
“Start calling because I’m dead serious.”
She stood there deciding, then slipped out of her apron, tossed it across the counter next to the donuts and said, “Mary, I got to run a quick errand. Be a peach and take my tables for ten minutes, will you?”
